


Sign Of The Times

by craigstucker



Category: South Park
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 22:00:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18455450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/craigstucker/pseuds/craigstucker
Summary: Something is not right in the Broflovski household.





	Sign Of The Times

The moment Kyle Broflovski opens his eyes, he knows that something isn't right.

The familiar sound of the morning kettle brewing is nonexistent. The hallway is dark, no light escaping through the crack of his bedroom door. The distant murmuring of the television playing his dad's favorite show is unreachable to his ears, as it habitually is his wake up call in the early hours of the morning. No one has woken him for school, and the view of the raised sun peeking through his curtains is evident to the factor that Ike hadn't cheerfully opened his door, calling him names and playfully sticking out his tongue to lure his big brother out of bed through the shadows of seven in the morning.

No, something was definitely not right.

Kyle sits up precipitately, taking in the way his vision tilts under the abrupt movement. His hand fumbles for his phone, eyes searching for explanations of texts or news alerts translating the sound of eerie silence into something, anything, average and standard. He sees two texts from Stan, and nothing else.

 **( 7:04am ) Stan Marsh!! :** hey are u coming to school today?

 **( 7:07am ) Stan Marsh!! :** bus is here, are u sick?

Something comforting dances in Kyle's chest. The world is still turning, the day is still passing by, and Stan still texts him questioning his whereabouts when he isn't present at the bus stop. So it wasn’t a zombie apocalypse, or global warming finally taking its jurisdiction on the world. Kyle let out a breath of relief, rubbing at his eyes, and slowly taking a move to sit up on his bed. Maybe his parents decided to let the boys have the day off, and take them to an amusement park instead. Maybe the electricity had gone out overnight and nobody's alarms had chimed inside and out of their earshot. Maybe everything was just fine.

It only takes a minute for Kyles senses to adjust to the new day, stretching and rising from his bed. The floorboard beneath his feet and socks creek gently, a sound that has greeted Kyle ever since he'd learned to walk. The hallways are still dark, the gloominess of the sight leaving an unsettled feeling in the redheads stomach. Dark hallways should be meant for unforeseen surprise parties, or an intense games of hide and seek. Instead, the sight just makes Kyle feel sick to his stomach. As much as he'd tried to resist it, he knows well enough that this touch of morning is all wrong.

_But Stan texted me. That means everything's normal._

_Not in your house, it seems._

_If something was so wrong, someone would have woken me up._

_Or maybe, they're too busy lying dead on the floor._

The young Broflovski shook his head in an attempt to whisk away his mind at war. The best option to keep his brain from fighting with the bad feeling that settled itself into his chest, was to go see what the hell was going on. That was the answer; just step out of the safety of his bedroom, realize that everything was fine and his family had just overslept, get a ride to school, and continue his day, week, and life.

It all seemed so simple until a glance at the clock told him that it was ten in the morning. Mrs. Broflovski always, no matter the day of the week or season, awoke at six in the morning. The rasping of his bedroom door sliding open reminded Kyle of the way a wounded animal would voice its last cries in its final moments of life. Each morning, the same noise greeted his ears, but he had never paid close attention to the groan that the door let out at a small scaled press or nudge. It was the result of the silence that bounced through the Broflovski household that held Kyles thumping chest to each and every sound that made itself known around him. Shadows followed Kyle down the hallway, dancing like ballerinas on stage against the blue shaded walls. Reaching the stairway, Kyle hesitantly flicked the light switch on, brightness flourishing from the ground to the celling. The sight that greeted him after the final step, was the living room.

Gerald sat on the couch, staring out the window as if he were waiting something, or someone to come rescue him, an arm around a silent Ike. Sheila was nowhere in sight.

Kyle paused. "...Dad?"

Gerald Broflovski turned slowly, and Kyle could see the sadness behind his eyes. "I thought I should let you sleep in." His dad spoke after a moment, before he motioned to the spot beside him on the couch. "Come here."

Kyle's feet felt as if they weighed a thousand pounds as he slowly walked above the wooden floor to the couch that he'd known as a safe place all his life. Ike shifted in his seat, looking away from his brother with heartache.

"Dad?" Kyle repeated, his shaky voice barley above a whisper as he took a seat. "What happened? Where's mom?"

Gerald shook his head, shutting his eyes for a moment. He then handed Kyle a note. The paper was a sheet of loose-leaf, slightly crumpled with a small stain above the scribbled writing that was spread out on the page like string on a copper wire spool.

 

_Dear Gerald, Kyle, and Ike,_

_Someone can only take on South Park for so long. I'm sorry for the scrambled goodbye, but I will come back someday, after my head is cleared and I'm no longer put into moods of despair at the thought of our town. I cannot tell you where I'm going, as I don't want anyone to find me for a long, long time. I'll be heading out West to find myself, working on a peaceful farm so that I can get back a part of myself that I've lost a long time ago. I'll be okay, and once I come back I promise I'll make up the years that we've lost. I hope you all can forgive me._

_With love, Sheila_

 

Kyle stared at the letter for a long time, trying to figure out each and every word as if it were a puzzle piece that could only be solved if it were focused on long enough. But this was no puzzle on family game night that would be torn apart with laughter after a piece didn't fit. This puzzle was dark, cold, and a sickening twist to the winter.

Gerald gently took the note from his sons hands and placed it back on the table. Ike looked up, eyes puffy and red. "What're we going to do?" He asked, voice sounding broken like a dropped piece of glass.

Mr. Broflovski only pulled Ike closer in response, his focus on the wall.

Silence until—

"When do you think she'll come back?"

Silence until—

"I don’t know, Ike."

Silence.

Kyle realized in that moment that he wanted to tell his mother that he loved her a hundred times more. He also realizes that it wouldn't be possible to do so for a long, long time.

**Author's Note:**

> This was mostly an outlet for me to practice creative writing, but I would love feedback!


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